


Ease My Mind

by binchmarner



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2019 Stanley Cup Playoffs, Colorado Avalanche, Fix-It, Gen, Kneeling, Platonic BDSM, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 09:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18775921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/binchmarner/pseuds/binchmarner
Summary: Tyson doesn’t even notice that someone’s in front of him until they rest their hands on Tyson’s kneecaps. Tyson pulls his hands away from his face, and sees Colin kneeling in front of him.Colin, who’s smiling gently, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on Tyson’s pants.“Hey, buddy. Do you need some help?” Colin asks lightly, like he how he talks to Josty when he needs to--Kneel.





	Ease My Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotts (LottieAnna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LottieAnna/gifts).



> Happy birthday my dear Charlie!!! You said you wanted soft Colin Wilson kneeling fic, and I immediately wanted to give it to you!!! I hope you like it, my dear.
> 
> Title comes from Ben Platt's [Ease My Mind.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I9kTBXBPPGg)
> 
> As always, if you know anyone in this fic, I'd advise you to click away immediately.

It’s Tyson’s fault, if you ask him. The loss, the anger, the hurt. The fear, because now, there’s only a one game decider between the Sharks advancing to the finals and the Avalanche pushing to a game seven.

 

It doesn’t help that JT assaults a trashcan after they leave the ice when regulation is done. A yell, a stick broke, and a dented trash can. JT’s upset, Tyson knows.

 

He just can’t shake the fact that it’s _his_ fault.

 

And obviously, it’s not his job to bring up team morale, he’s not the team captain. But, you know, it sort of is. He does the jokes, and brings the laughter, but he just...he just _can’t_ tonight.

 

He’ll just--

 

He’ll just stay off of Twitter for the next couple of days. Do really well at the next game.

 

He’ll just do better.

 

He has to.

 

Tyson rests his head in his hands, feeling a hell of an anxiety attack come on. _Breathe in through nose, out through mouth. Try to get rid of icky knots in stomach and try not to cry until you’re on the plane._

 

Tyson doesn’t even notice that someone’s in front of him until they rest their hands on Tyson’s kneecaps. Tyson pulls his hands away from his face, and sees Colin kneeling in front of him. Colin, who’s smiling gently, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles on Tyson’s pants.

 

Tyson doesn’t understand. They played like absolute shit. Why is Colin so happy?

 

“Hey, buddy. Do you need some help?” Colin asks lightly, like he how he talks to Josty when he needs to--

 

Kneel.

 

Tyson hasn’t needed to kneel for years, when he was younger and nervous and in his head all the fucking time. But he’s older now, 27 whole years, and he’s done the therapy and he’s learned how to _detach with love_ or whatever the fuck. He just--

 

Needs, right now.

 

“Is that okay?” Tyson asks, a little softer than he’d meant for it to come out, a little more scared. But Colin’s face just looks welcoming, and warm, and Tyson immediately feels _safe_.

 

“Yeah, bud. Strip out of your gear, okay?” Colin says, standing up and waiting. He’s not forcing Tyson to go faster, not urging him on. He’s letting Tyson go on his own terms.

 

Tyson unlaces his skates and takes his gloves off. He strips out of his jersey and his shoulder pads, his socks and his elbow pads. He pushes the pants down, and he just feels _small,_ only in his underarmor.

 

“Come on, let’s get to my stall,” Colin says, low and soft. Tyson already feels a little floaty, walking beside him. Colin sits down, takes the pillow out that he uses when Grubi and Josty need to kneel, and sets it on the floor.

 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Tyson asks, looking down at the pillow and then back up. Colin nods.

 

“For sure, bud. As long as you wanna do it, I’m here,” Colin says, and Tyson kneels down. He leans forward, rests his cheek on the inside of Colin’s thigh and closes his eyes. Colin threads his fingers through Tyson’s hair and starts to play with Tyson’s curls.

 

Tyson forgets why he ever stopped kneeling, because he always loves the feeling of safety that kneeling brings. He wraps his arms around Colin’s knee and takes a deep breath. His thoughts and anxiety slowly melt away, the pit in his chest closes. The knots in his stomach slowly come undone.

 

Colin keeps petting Tyson’s hair, humming a song. It sounds nice, Tyson thinks. It suits his voice. Tyson thinks Colin should sing more, he likes how Colin sounds.

 

Tyson doesn’t exactly know how long he’s been kneeling for, lost in the feeling of Colin’s hand pressed on his head, scratching gently at his scalp. He listens to the timbre of Colin’s voice as he talks to the other players around him, lulling him almost to sleep.

 

When he comes back down, more aware of his surroundings and the sounds of his teammates, he can feel every hit he took in the game. Every check, every shot he blocked, and his body aches. He winces as he blinks his eyes open. The room is bright, and he just wants to be back home, or on the plane, or at the very least on the bus, so he can sleep the pain off.

 

“Do you feel better?” Colin asks, running his hand down Tyson’s face to cradle his jaw. Tyson nods, and then thinks a moment.

 

“I guess. I just feel bad about the game, like I could have done better,” Tyson says, his cheeks flushing. Colin looks at him, and then presses his lips to Tyson’s forehead. Tyson smiles, and he lets himself lean into the kiss.

 

“You did the best you could. We all did the best we could. The loss wasn’t because of any one person, no matter what, though your feelings are incredibly valid. Hockey wasn’t meant to be an easy game, but it’s supposed to be fun,” Colin says, letting the pad of his thumb graze Tyson’s cheekbone. “You did the best you could out there, and that’s all anyone could ever ask for.”

 

Tyson smiles softly. “Thanks, Willy.”

 

"Any time," Colin says. Tyson stands up, and sighs, feeling lighter than he had before.

 

Whatever happens, they're gonna be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> i love you, Charlie. Happy birthday!
> 
> find me yelling about the avs and leafs on twitter @calemakars.


End file.
